


In Pieces

by SaltyWords (agent4hire22)



Series: A Love Story, In Pieces [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Bottom Dean, Canon Compliant, Canon Divergent after 12x12, Coda, First Kiss, First Time, Frottage, Gay Panic, Hand Jobs, Love Confessions, M/M, Neck Kissing, Oral Sex, Pining, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Relationship Panic, Rough Kissing, Top Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-18
Updated: 2017-03-18
Packaged: 2018-10-07 02:06:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10349988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agent4hire22/pseuds/SaltyWords
Summary: Dean can’t run from this feeling forever, and he knows it. He just wasn’t expecting it to spill everywhere like it has.Now there’s just mess.(The first part of ‘A Love Story, In Pieces’)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, confession time: This was originally outlined as a single chapter of a ~15k word fic, but I just couldn't -- for the life of me -- get it off the ground, so I gave you all the porny bit. I'm sorry... You still love me, right?
> 
> *EDIT: OKAY OKAY OKAY since the answer is clearly that you all still DO NOT love me for this garbage, I will try to do a follow up for some resolution*

**_Part I:_ **

**_In Pieces_ **

**_Three Weeks Ago:_ **

**_10:48 PM_ **

**  
**

**_~The Bunker: Lebanon, KS~_ **

“You don’t get'ta do deathbed confessions!” Dean screamed, and he fucking knew he was screaming because his voice was pitching off the corners of the room, and coming back at him with some kinda reverb. But he couldn’t pull it back in—wasn’t willing to try, even though Cas was nearly against the bookcase now. Dean had pushed him there. The blood dried into his dirty shirt smelled tinny this close. The bags under his eyes were extra dark. But, none of that mattered—or maybe it all did—because this was the part where it all blew up. 

All because… _well_ , they hadn’t talked.

The whole way home, they hadn't. Streetlights sweeping the cabin of the Impala, 'til they stopped at Raul’s Cafe to drop off mom, and—“Drive the pickup back.” He’d told Sam, never taking his hands off the steering wheel, or tempting a look in the rearview mirror at the sullen face in the backseat. 

Except, then they’d ridden in silence. Not a word between them as they passed through the boring flat-land along Highway 281. Or when they stopped at the four-way light midtown, waiting on red for a good thirty seconds longer than it needed to last at this hour. Not when the radio was off, or after he’d pulled Baby into the garage, yanked the brake, and turned the key. When there was only the gentle pinging of a cooling engine, and the sound of his boots on the poured concrete to fill the space. 

Then, it was down the staircase and through the war room. Dean turned at the hall and didn’t stop 'til he hit his bedroom. It was as soon as the door closed behind him that he finally snapped, heel-toed, and marched back out. Found Cas passing through the library and stuck a finger in his face, ire finally spilling. 

“It’s rule number one for a reason! Maybe it seems like a good damn idea cuz you get'ta say your peace an’ move on—but then it leaves the rest of us to deal with the baggage! We gotta _live with it, Cas_! We already got enough baggage!” 

Cas tried to grab Dean’s shoulders, but Dean shrugged him off, shoved him into the shelves this time, and they lost a section of chronicles to the floor. “You _love_ me—what the hell am I supposed to do with that? How the hell do I live with that if you die?” He pushed Cas again. The books jumped, and Cas’ hands went up, defensive.

“Stop!” Cas growled. Those fucking blues were screaming in the shadows. “You don’t have to deal with anything, Dean, because I didn’t die!”

“That ain't the point!”

Cas planted a hand in the middle of Dean’s chest and the touch stopped Dean cold. “Isn't that exactly the point?” he asked. “I didn’t die. I’m not dead.”

The words ticked through Dean’s head. Marked all the right checkboxes. “So _you_ getta deal with it,” he huffed, staggering his feet. His stomach tossed, fingers shivering. “So deal with it!”

“What do you want me to do? What do you want me to say? Do you want me to tell you it was a mistake? That I messed up— _misspoke_? I’ll say it.”

“I want you to cut the crap!”

Cas’ eyes dogged off the fallen books and back again. “Fine,” he spat. “I’m in love with you. I said it. And I meant it. I thought I was going to die, and I needed you to know.”

It was quick and sharp and _so off-the-cuff,_ that it sliced straight through Dean’s chest and staggered him back. The air sucked out of him, and he suddenly felt blocked off. There was police tape everywhere and flashing red lights: _DO NOT CROSS, YOU MORON. GO BACK. GO BACK RIGHT NOW—_ but it was way too late for that. The words were already spilled: _Fucking black and white on the page_.

_Not even just love this time._

_IN LOVE._

Dean shook his head, backed up. “No,” he puffed, and it was hell gathering the energy to get it out.

“No? No, what? I don’t understand.”

“No!” 

Dean shoved Cas into the shelves again, this time Cas caught his hand, kept his footing, and shoved Dean back. Dean stumbled into the library table. It screeched along the floor as it kicked sideways. “Why are you trying to fight me?”

“Because you were gonna die!”

“I don't understand, Dean! I’m trying to understand!”

Dean took a breath, felt the heat on his face as the admission rushed him. “I dunno how to get an angel back,” he peeled out. He bit his lip trying to head the tears off with a little pain because that always worked— _well,_ _usually worked_ —but they spilled over anyway. He wasn’t sure why the fuck it hurt so much _,_ but it suddenly felt like a straight razor dragged over the soft skin of his feet. “You tell me you...—an' you die… I can't get you back.”

Cas blinked surprise back at him, that bottom lip wobbling. “But I didn’t...” he whispered. “I didn’t die…”

_But he didn’t—_

Dean suddenly shrugged Cas’ hands off and grabbed his face, shoved a hard kiss into him. He didn’t really realize that he’d done it, 'til he was listening to a fenced-off huff claw its way out the corners of Cas’ mouth. Cas pushed him off again just as quick, expression all knotted up from Dean’s erratic behavior. 

The split-second pause between them sparked the air, and Dean finally gave. “I love you back,” he breathed. It came out like a question, and Cas’ fiery eyes pinged off every edge of Dean’s face like he was looking for the answer. Maybe he found it, cuz he jerked forward, and buried his own hot, hurried kiss into Dean. Dean went off-balance. The backs of his thighs hit the table edge and he lost his footing, toppled backward and took the polished mahogany tabletop like a bat to the shoulder blades.

Cas chased him over. Climbed onto the wood without missing a beat. He straddled Dean, slipping hands up his shirt and along his sides.

_God —_

The lamp jumped and tipped, rolled beside them. Cas swooped over and Dean arched up to meet him, get Cas between his lips again. He still smelled like the barn, but he tasted crisp. Clean mint. The shadow couched his face, but nothing could hide those eyes, as they caught a glint of light from the hall, dilated and hungry.

Dean writhed beneath his weight. Fumbled for Cas’ belt. His hurried fingers groped for the leather but slipped off, angle weird and bulky coat blocking him. He tried again. Came around the back, clawing fingers into Cas’ ass instead, urging him to straighten up on his knees.

Cas cooperated.

Dean went for his belt again, access easier now, and he paused to rub a solid hand up the length of Cas’ dick, just to feel the way he was tugging the fabric tight. Cas hummed, and that was all Dean needed. He pulled the zipper down, the blood dried into the hem gummed the teeth, but he yanked it anyway. Maybe it broke, maybe it didn’t, but he got it open regardless. Got inside. Felt Cas, hard and ready in his hands.

_Christ—_

“You want it,” he hummed.

“I want it,” Cas agreed. He arched over again and licked another kiss into Dean’s mouth.

Dean teased a finger through the beaded slick already crying from Cas’ tip. Rolled a hand through it to wet his palm, and took that down the sides with a slow, tight fist. Cas bowed his head, rocked into Dean’s touch, breath hooking in his chest and groan rumbling out. A sound so unhinged and throaty, it went straight to Dean’s skin in a rash of goosebumps.

“— _Ah, God,_ you want it bad,” Dean sighed.

“You have no idea.”

“Oh, I got a pretty damn good idea.”

“No—” Cas’ breath was hot on his skin “—You’ve got no _fucking idea_.”

Dean strained in his jeans and writhed under Cas’ weight again, chased his mouth for another taste. For another hit of that deep, midnight salt flavor he had sitting on him. _Oh, fuck—_ “Then tell me,” he begged.

“Tell you?” Cas grabbed Dean’s face and bit the question into the swell of his lip. Cocked a brow. “You want me to tell you that the idea of you touching yourself in your room at night— _without me_ —is the reason I pace the halls, Dean?”

“ _Yes.”_

“You want me to tell you how many times I thought about getting you in my mouth _just to taste you_? Is that what you want to hear?”

“ _Yes—”_

“Yes?”

“ _God, Yeah_ , Cas. Tell me.”

Cas buried a kiss into Dean’s ear, nipped his lobe. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather I just showed you?” His breath whispered chills, and this time, he didn’t wait to ask it twice. He dragged hands down Dean’s body as he slipped out of his grip and hopped off the table. He tugged Dean’s ass to the edge, trailed wet lips down his belly and planted a scrape of teeth beside the hollow of a hipbone as he hooked the button of Dean’s jeans and popped it open.

Unzipped, and pulled Dean out. Meticulous and careful. Ravenous and wild.

Those were fingers that knew what they wanted.

It swelled heat in Dean’s belly and pulsed through his dick. Cas watched it, playing a flirty tongue at the edge of his lips as he did. The flush on his face was screaming the shadows from the room. Any shyness Dean may have thought Cas owned got washed out, just like that. And, that was before Cas glanced up, snagging Dean in that debauched expression. If he hadn’t already been laid out, Dean knew that look would’ve put him down quick.

Cas licked a velvet tongue into the tip. Hot and slow. A light touch at first, then harder as it fanned fat and spread along the bottom and over the nerves. Dean watched himself disappear into Cas’ mouth. Those pink lips spreading to fit Dean. The hollows of his cheeks, filling.

Dean grasped for the bedsheets he suddenly wished were there, came up empty and wrapped a leg around Cas instead. Knotted fingers in his hair as his own head went back into the table again, heart in his ears. Dean was wearing the obscene feeling in his face, he knew it, but he didn't even have an outside shot of getting it off again. The sloppy, wet of Cas’ mouth was playing him like a fucking guitar string, and Cas was making sheet music.

Heat rolled through Dean and he moaned, felt it coming, lost his own inhibitions in the moment and helped guide Cas by a tug of his hair. “I’m gonna come—” and the orgasm popped and rolled through him in a shock wave. It took his body for its own. He stretched back, knocked the lamp to the floor. 

Cas dug fingers into his thighs, sucked off, and wasted no time getting back up onto the table. He licked a wet mark into Dean’s stomach as he moved, panted Dean’s name, and Dean’s head came back enough to realize the base in Cas’ voice was gone. _That he was begging._

Dean slipped hands down Cas’ body, tried to get there to help him through the orgasm he heard coming, but Cas' fucking coat got in the way again. He went anyway, unassisted. Come spilled over Dean’s hand and hot onto his stomach. Dribbling off the sides as Dean flexed. “Sorry,” he whispered. He chased Cas’ face, touched their foreheads. Kissed him and tasted the spunk on his lips.

Cas shook his head, smiled. “No _—_ That was… ” He sighed a long breath. Let a little smile slip, and it was the kind of expression Dean had never seen on him before; just a bunch of knotted things finally untangled.

“Yeah,” Dean agreed. “It was pretty good.” _Really good, actually._

He threaded fingers into the spaces between Cas’ shirt buttons, pet a gentle line down his sternum, wiped the sweat there. The skin at his chest was fiery hot. The heat coming off him, an oven. His splotchy flush called Dean out— _Look what you did, Dean. Look what you’re doing_ — and, the wet, sticky reminder that Cas had come just by watching Dean get off, was all over his stomach. He couldn’t help himself. He buried another kiss into Cas’ neck, felt him swallow.

“I want this, Dean,” Cas said. His voice rumbled under Dean’s mouth. “I want this every day.”

“Yeah? You’ve got a helluva lot of days ahead of you, cosmically speaking. Could get wild.”

Cas pulled back, looked through him, eyes soft. “No, I mean… I want Earth. Sleeping, and eating, and getting thirsty.”

Dean felt Cas’ heart beating in his fingertips— _Maybe that was his own_. “You talkin’ about going human? For real this time?”

“I think so. There’s nothing in heaven for me anymore. Everything I need… is here.”

Dean’s stomach went numb, his feet, cold. Tears welled and he blinked them back. “What? With me?”

Cas smiled again, sweet and quiet. “Yeah,” he said, voice pitching. “Of course with you, Dean.”

The bunker door suddenly screeched open and the sound of it snapped Dean from the fog. Panic must’ve bled through his face, because Cas quickly scrambled off, tugged Dean up.

Dean yanked his jeans on, pulled his shirt back down, did a double take at Cas and pulled him together too, pushed him back a couple paces before falling into the nearest chair, and pulling it as close to the table as he could get. Sam came around the corner, hair damp from the rain.

“Hey—”

“Hey,” Dean answered quickly. He rubbed hands down his face, then propped both elbows up on the wood and kept them there, because if Cas was any indication, then both their lips were bitten raw.

“—I got a bite.”

“Hey, awesome. Dinner. What’d you get?”

Sam plopped the greasy paper bag on the table and he did a double take at the lamp on the floor. He looked up at Dean with a question already propped in his brow like a scroll-reader but stopped short, jaw snapping shut again. Dean saw it coming— _and_ _yep—_ a quick flit over to Cas and about halfway down him before Sam bailed the investigation entirely and came back to Dean with a long, solid expression.

_Yeah. He knew._

_That face was talking. ‘Hope you know what you’re doing, cuz, in case you didn’t notice, that's Cas.’_

Reality came crashing through Dean’s front door like some grannie’s runaway Oldsmobile through a store window. His brain clicked back on, and of course, it was only spewing garbage. _God, what did you do? You fucked up, Dean. God, you fucked up._ A wave of heat hit his ears.

“Uh, burgers,” Sam said, clearing his throat. “Anyway, ’night, guys.”

“Whoa, hey, Sam—”

“Nope, don’t let me interrupt.” Sam hopped the landing into the hall without breaking stride and plodded to his room. If he had a burger in that bag, he’d just left it behind.

Dean buried his face in his hands. _This isn't just a hookup, you moron. This is Cas—_

“Sam has such impeccable timing,” Cas said after the pause was dragging. Dean looked up, saw him standing just as Dean had left him. Hair mussed and coat to match. His lips were bright pink, his eyes, shy.

“Huh?”

“Your brother… Bad timing.”

_How the fuck do you fix this, you idiot?_

Dean cleared the gum from his throat, sat back. His ears were whirring. “Yeah, uh… Always has, I guess.”

_You royally screwed the pooch, man. You can’t make him happy. You can’t even crawl outta a bottle for more than a day at a time. What’s it gonna be like when he rips those wings off for you and figures that out later?_

“I suppose it wasn’t the best place to—”

_You’ll have to watch him fall outta love with you. Just like everyone else does. I can’t do it. I can’t see that—_

“—be… inti—”

“I gotta go.”

“—mate.” Cas looked up, rattled. “What?”

“I’m sorry.”

Cas’ shoulders hitched. “Dean, wait.”

Dean’s stomach bundled raw in at the base of his throat. He wanted to. _God,_ he wanted to _just wait. Stop. Think for a sec, you moron—_ buthe was already pushing the chair out. Already fishing the keys from his pocket and had a hand on the rail. “Dean...”

“I can’t.”

It wasn’t 'til his heart started screaming at the top of the staircase that he paused, hand on the knob and knuckles aching. 

“Please wait,” Cas begged, and _of course_ he sounded broken.

“I really can’t,” he breathed. “I’m sorry… ”

Maybe if he’d just looked down, things would’ve been different. Maybe if he’d’ve seen Cas’ face, the Impala wouldn’t have been so damn cold that night.

**Author's Note:**

> Confess your feelings: I'm [winchester-reload](http://winchester-reload.tumblr.com/) on  
> tumblr
> 
> ~This story is to be continued in another installment~  
> Update: Currently a massive bout of writer's block has me down, but I am working on the next installment of this (12/10/2017)


End file.
